


Connection

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Skype Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: 'A sensation stirs deep in Byakuya’s groin. It’s a movement of sorts that trickles into his base. They’ve done this sort of thing before a confidential number of times, so he should be used to the sight of Touko like this by now, yet he trains his eyes on the mole on her chin that bobs up and down and her lips which pucker and contort...'Togami and Fukawa communicate over skype. Togami wonders if it should have lost its novelty by now, but there are some things that even he can't understand.





	Connection

Random pixels glitch the video feed on Byakuya’s laptop when Touko accepts the call, but after a few seconds, it fixes itself. Byakuya listens to her heavy breathing as he studies her beaming, blushing face on the screen with a frown. Though late at night, the room is well lit, the wall behind her obnoxiously bright yellow like the therapy room that he often sits in stubborn silence in.

“Where’s Komaru?” asks Byakuya. “Also, don’t make so much of that racket... We haven’t even begun yet.”

“Komaru’s sleeping in another room,” replies Touko. She gulps, trying to swallow her pants, but she succeeds for only a second or two before they resume. He shoots a glare that she takes in her stride. A smirk plays on her lips. “Her snores are loud enough to block everything out, but I thought you would prefer the extra privacy, Byakuya-sama.”

“You thought correctly.” He nudges up his glasses. “Let us begin.”

She nods so fiercely that she might snap her neck. “Y-Yes!”

Byakuya leans back in his chair. It creaks underneath him, just loud enough that Touko might hear it. 

“You start,” he says.

Touko grabs the edge of her desk and pushes against it so her chair screeches back a short distance. She stands up and fiddles with her scarf until it comes loose. Then, she holds her hand out to the side, elbow tucked in, and when she splays out her fingers, the scarf falls to the floor. At no point do her eyes stray from his own, not when she unclips the side of her skirt so she can slip the article of clothing down to her ankles, and not when she peels off her blouse. The pouch of scissors that she carries on her leg soon thumps onto the desk, and after she removes her footwear, she wears only her bra and panties.

Nothing about them stands out, plain and black. He makes a mental note to hide some lingerie in one of the crates that Future Foundation are next due to smuggle into Towa City, like the red set that he witnessed her in back at Hope’s Peak, or something black with more lace. 

Still, he can’t say that he doesn’t like what she wears. They stand out against her pale skin, and her dark hair, which hasn’t been braided for some time now, borders her body in wild waves that strike a sharp contrast. She runs her hands down her sides that curve more than her old, shabby school uniform lets on, and she grins at his controlled blank face, waiting for approval or an order.

By giving the latter, he gives the former at the same time. Byakuya swirls his hand and says, “Proceed.”

Touko’s grin cuts deep into her cheeks, and she reaches toward her webcam to adjust the angle of it. As a result, his window into her world shakes until she manipulates the device to her liking and releases the webcam with it pointed more downward than before. Initially, most of what he can see is the scuffed floor, but then she shoves the chair into view and climbs onto it. She stretches up to change the position of her webcam, though not as much as before, and sits back again.

The top part of her face gets cut off, but he can clearly see the rest of her body from that point down. Touko sits with her feet near the edge of the seat, ankles crossed over and her knees apart so nothing blocks her panties from sight. Byakuya glimpses her scars, but he has seen them enough times that he doesn’t linger on them.

“Can you see me okay?” she asks.

He shifts in his seat as discreetly as he can. “You’re fine.”

She bites her bottom lip and brings a hand to her panties, all but her index and middle fingers curled into her palm, and rubs the two digits against herself, drawing ovals. The more she works her fingers, the more the shape shrinks, until she concentrates on one spot in particular. Initially, she doesn’t make much noise, but her whimpers strengthen into huffs that spring her bottom lip free from her top row of teeth. 

Byakuya props his chin in the palm of his left hand, clutching his thigh with the other.

Touko drags her free hand up her chest, hooks her finger around the small strip of material between the cups of her bra and wiggles it up to expose herself. With her other hand still pressing into her panties, she uses her raised hand to grab one of her breasts. Her thumb twitches over her nipple, which is already hard prior to her touching it, and rolls it around. She squirms and with her thumb aided by her index finger, she pinches her nipple. Gasps grow in frequency as she multitasks, and Touko’s lips flutter with words that Byakuya can’t hear.

When he first met Touko, if someone suggested that he would ever find himself in this sort of situation with anyone, let alone her, he would have had them shipped off to the same disposal site that the chocolates he received on Valentine’s Day went. In fact, even now, should someone dare bring it up with him, they would suffer the same fate. Byakuya gulps and slides his hand up his thigh. He fumbles with his belt, unfastens the button on his trousers, pulls down his zipper and dips his hand into his underwear.

Having played with just one breast so far, Touko’s hand darts over to the other to spoil it too. She fondles it, sometimes twisting the nipple and sometimes caressing the mound it rests on. Her thighs tremble and tripping up on her own breath, she draws her panties aside so she can massage herself directly, without the wet fabric in the way.

His mouth creeps ajar and he tugs on himself as hard as he can with his underwear still on.

While Touko had positioned herself to allow for an unobstructed viewing, Byakuya’s webcam can only capture every part of him above his desk. Byakuya shunts his chair back so he’s further away from his webcam. This doesn’t improve how well Touko can see him, exactly, but he doesn’t feel as cramped anymore, and he can stretch out his legs in front of him. 

However, he still doesn’t feel particularly comfortable, and he purses his lips at the pressure constricting his crotch despite the lack of underwear. Not a bad pressure, but not a good one either. Keeping his gaze on on Touko, he takes his hand out, lifts his hips and lowers his underwear and trousers to mid thigh. Cool air hits his length, now out in the open, and he sits back down. 

Touko pauses. She must have been watching him.

“Don’t stop,” he says, and he waits until she resumes rubbing herself before he curls his fingers around his length. Starting with a loose grip at the base, he drags his hand up to the head and then back down, never taking his eyes off her.

The stroking that Byakuya follows his previous one with involves a tighter hold. Every time his hand passes over his glans, his breathing ever so slightly wavers, and his heart rate picks up in speed. With his idling hand, he slackens his tie, and he even pops a button free. Afterwards, he sets that hand onto his lap and kneads his thigh.

On the screen, Touko smears her liquids around and she throws in the occasional flick that makes her jolt and let go of her breast so she has to grab onto it again. 

Her whines shoot through Byakuya. He clamps his lips together and soon, when his fist reaches the head again, he runs his thumb over the clear globule on his slit, inducing a shiver and a groan from himself, and then he goes back to pumping, faster now.

Touko shudders as she teases her entrance with a finger. Byakuya slows his hand. From what he can see, a flush stains her face, and she chews on her lips as she toys with herself. It ought to be an ugly look, but he can’t avert his eyes, and he can’t deny how she contributes to the tingling in his skin. The furthest she lets her finger probe is one joint in, but Byakuya wants more and he knows Touko does as well.

“Pretend it’s me,” he blurts, fully aware of how warm his face is and so how red it must be too.

Her head bounces in acknowledgement, knocking her glasses askew so she has to correct them again, and she traces her finger around her entrance, getting her digit wetter, before pushing into herself. She arches her back, letting rip a mewl, and thrusts her finger gently. Slowly, she sinks down in her seat, settling into a position where he can see all of her head now, including her eyes that open in blinks when not scrunched shut.

A sensation stirs deep in Byakuya’s groin. It’s a movement of sorts that trickles into the base of his length. They’ve done this sort of thing before a confidential number of times, so he should be used to the sight of Touko like this by now, yet he trains his eyes on the mole on her chin that bobs up and down and her lips which pucker and contort as she crooks her finger inside of herself. 

He grits his teeth and jumps to his feet. Without thinking - that would come later, in silence that only the dead of night can provide - he hitches his leg up, resting it on the desk, so he can show Touko as intimate an area of himself as she has shared with him. A long moan billows out of her and she adds another finger inside of her. She releases her breast and tweaks either side of the bud between her legs. Not even touching it directly, she stimulates herself, and she grinds against her seat with pent up energy, panting as a coil tightens in her core.

That is how she described the feeling to him once.

Touko’s eyes, though not closed, aren’t open enough for him to know which direction she looks toward. “B-Byakuya...”

“Yes?”

Whatever she tries to say next melts on her lips and evaporates into sighs. From how her thighs jiggle, and how difficult breathing, something one does without thought, has become for her, and from how pink she has become, he knows she must be near. Byakuya seizes the top of his laptop, ramming into his hand that he imagines is Touko’s hot, snug grip on him, that she imitates him ploughing with her fingers, that should be him instead...

“I love you,” she mumbles without warning, choosing now of all times, of all sentences, to be intelligible, and Byakuya, of all times, of all sentences that he could have climaxed at, just so happens to do so at this sentence she now repeats over and over again, and he climaxes in an explosion of released tension that he cries out pathetically at, rocking into his hand.

After the first splatter on his laptop, he thinks to aim elsewhere. Some gets on his keyboard and the rest on the desk and in his hand. His mind clears, enabling thought, but that isn’t something he feels like doing. Thinking. 

Touko lasts another good two minutes before she gets engulfed in body spasms. 

She needs just as long to come down from her euphoria. When she returns to reality, he hasn’t hung up yet, sitting on his chair and combing his fingers through his hair.

Obviously, not with the hand that he made a mess in.

“Byakuya-sama,” she says.

He can’t even make eye contact with the image of her on the screen. “Yes?”

“Do you think... when we’re together... it’ll be... as good?”

His fingers curl in his hair.

“I should think it would be better,” he admits quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> another request from tumblr


End file.
